Cracked Mirror
by flashwitch
Summary: Tony and Clint are good friends. They get along surprisingly well. That's because they're broken in the same places. Tony's started trying to fix himself, ever since Afghanistan, but Clint is still so painfully broken that it hurt Tony to look at him sometimes. Alcohol and pancakes and the power of love! :P This summary sucks.


**I've been messing around with this for a while. Figured I'd post it while I'm still in a posting mood. If anyone can come up with a better summary let me know!**  
**It kind of just stops, which is why I haven't posted it before, but I honestly don't think it's going to get any better. May write some smut follow up to make up for the lack of actual sex. Sex is mentioned but not had, despite Clint's attempts. **

* * *

Tony kind of hates Clint at first. Because Clint reminds him of how broken he is. Because Clint's broken too, in almost exactly the same way. It's weird. You wouldn't expect a genius raised as a billionaire and an orphan who actually lived the cliché and ran away to join the circus to have almost exactly the same issues.

Tony sees Clint making bad joke and putting himself in danger and baking cakes and cooking meals. All Tony hears is 'look at me, look at me! I matter! Pay attention to me!' because he does the exact same things. Except he builds robots and buys things instead of cooking.

He stops hating Clint when he tastes his homemade pasta. He can't hate him, because he's too pathetic. And jeez, is that how people think about Tony? Do they feel sorry for him? He can't stand the thought. He tells Clint he has an open invitation to the lab and makes a point to laugh at Clint's jokes and compliment him on his cooking and it's almost embarrassing how much Clint glows from a few words.

Bruce catches on next. He gives Tony a warm smile, like he's done something especially good and it makes him feel all warm and fuzzy. He smiled back when Bruce asks Clint for the recipe to his pound cake. Clint doesn't seem to know what to do with the attention, but he's practically bouncing. And now Tony feels bad again. He doesn't want to feel sorry for Clint, damn it.

Then Steve has a go at Clint for nothing.

Well, not nothing. Not really. But something stupid nonetheless. They'd been engaged in battle with about a dozen cow-demon-dragon things. A couple of them had cornered Steve, and Clint had jumped from the roof he'd been perched on. He'd called for someone to catch him as he'd fallen and Tony's heart stopped. He couldn't get there in time, Clint was going to die and it was going to be his fault... and Clint had taken the shot, saved Cap and Thor had caught him in time. It had all worked out fine. And Clint had mostly seemed confused by the fuss.

"Clint, you should have called for support before jumping off that roof!"

"I called as I jumped, if I'd waited longer, I would have missed the shot."

"You're part of a team now! You should have shouted for Tony or Thor!"

"I used to be in a circus, I had five other ways down." Clint scowls. "Besides, you weren't yelling at me when that shot stopped you from being eaten."

"You're too reckless. You need to pay more attention to your surroundings."

"You aren't listening!"

"Hey! Steve, back off. He said he had five other routes to the ground. He's been in this business a lot longer than you have. If he says that he was fine, I believe him. Besides, he's right. He did save your ass." Tony shakes his head. "Stop yelling at him for scaring you."

Steve frowns, but after a moment, he runs a hand through his hair and just looks sheepish.

"I'm sorry. Tony's right. I was yelling at you for the wrong reasons. When I saw you falling, it..." Tony knew he what he was avoiding saying. _It reminded me of Bucky falling._ Howard had told Tony how messed up Steve had been after that. "Thank you, Clint, for having my back."

"Uh... you're welcome?" Clint shakes the hand that Steve offers, and then shoots a glance at Natasha. She smiles at him and rolls her eyes and he finally comes down off the offensive. He gives Tony a look too, but Tony isn't sure what it says. He figures it's just Clint thanking him for sticking up for him so he smirks back and then the meeting is breaking up and he's heading to Bruce's workshop with Bruce to carry on working on an experiment.

He doesn't think any more about Clint until he and Bruce have gone through science madness and out the other side into exhausted and punch drunk.

"It was nice of you to stick up for him," Bruce says, and Tony knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Hey, I just told the truth. Steve was out of line."

"Yes. He was. And he was just as out of line when he yelled at Natasha last week and you a few days before."

"Natasha can handle herself. And Cap was right about me. I should have been more careful."

Bruce sighs.

"You're an idiot sometimes."

"Aw, you know you love me, Brucey-kins."

"Just... be careful."

Tony frowns. He isn't really sure what Bruce is talking about any more, but he nods seriously anyway because it seems like it's the right response.

* * *

He figures it out two days later when he walks into his room to find Clint sitting on his bed wearing nothing but boxers and a smirk.

"What...?" He stares. Clint is very easy on the eyes, he's not going to lie.

"I thought you were a genius." Clint smirks and reaches for him and Tony stumbles backwards. He watches Clint's face crumple briefly, before the game face is back.

"Clint, what is this?"

"Seriously?"

"Clint."

"I thought... I thought this is what you wanted."

Tony sighs. He grabs a chair and moves it to sit opposite the bed, so he can see Clint but he won't be tempted to touch.

"Clint, baby, no. Just no. I don't love you for your body." Tony tried to remember what Rhodey had said to him the first time Tony had come onto him. "We're friends, man. You don't need to do this."

"What if I want to do this?"

"I don't have many friends," Tony said seriously. "I'd much rather keep you like that, instead of letting it get messy."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

"Oh." Clint gathered the sheet around him, self consciously.

"You want a drink?"

"No. No, I think I'm just going to gather the scraps of my dignity and get out of here."

"Dignity? I gave up on that years ago." Tony grinned. "Come on. One drink; prove no hard feelings."

"Okay. But I'm getting dressed first."

Clint got dressed and Tony poured them both a scotch.

"So..." Clint said, fiddling with his glass. "Is this going to be awkward?"

"No way." Clint didn't look reassured. "Look, I did the exact same thing once, okay? I'm not going to give you a hard time."

"Wow. Really?"

"Yeah." He took a mouthful of scotch. "You want the whole sordid tale?"

"Dude. Of course." They both laughed, and some of the tension eased.

"I was... oh God, seventeen? I think, maybe a bit older. Rhodey was the only friend I had. He was the only reason I got through MIT without ODing or dying of alcohol poisoning or whatever. He hated the way I partied, but he kept looking out for me, just the same. I figured my dad had paid him. But he didn't go away after my parents died." He sipped his scotch and refused to meet Clint's eyes. "I couldn't figure out why. So, I went over to his place and offered to blow him. Let him fuck me."

"Seriously? How did he react?"

"He didn't. He just stared at me. So I started stripping. He grabbed my hands and dragged me over to the sofa and I thought that we were going to... you know. I started trying to kiss him." it was a painful memory, bittersweet at best, even after all this time. "Young me was so stupid. Rhodey pushed me away and asked me how much I'd had to drink. I told him I hadn't been drinking and he laughed at me. Then he sighed, and told me he didn't want to have sex with me. I already knew he didn't want money, and he was smart enough that he didn't really need my brain, so I said 'I don't know what you want!' And he looked really upset and called me an idiot. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess... I'd been on my own for so long. Even when my parents were alive, I was alone. We talked and I ran away back to my apartment. I lived off campus." He shook his head and laughed, humourlessly. "I was so sure he was mad at me. Embarrassed by me. That he'd stop liking me because I was a slut, even though he already knew that. But he showed up with donuts the next morning."

"And everything was alright again? Just like that?"

"Not just like that, no. I was paranoid for a while, expecting him to hold it over me. Not that he'd seen me half naked or whatever, but that he knew I would do anything he wanted to keep him as my friend. I kept thinking 'he knows now, why hasn't he ambushed me and got me to blow him or do his homework or buy him nice things?' But he didn't do that, and I slowly got used to the idea that he just liked hanging around with me." He shrugged and looked away, his face weirdly open in a way Clint wasn't used to seeing.

"I..." he wasn't sure how to respond. He just felt stupid. And kind of like a jerk for assuming Tony would want that. Would take advantage of him that way.

"Don't sweat it, Barton. We're friends. That's all. Besides, I'm pretty sure Coulson would have my head if I slept with you."

"Yeah," Clint said vaguely and took a sip of his drink. "Wait, what?"

"Seriously? I thought you were playing hard to get. That man wants you. Bad. But he seems to want you to make the first move."

"No. You're wrong. I asked him... when we first started working together and he actually _listened_ to me in the field, I asked him. He said no in no uncertain terms. He doesn't want me."

"Wow. You're wrong." Tony poured them both another mouthful. "Think about it. Think about what just happened, and think back to when you first started working with Coulson. I know you're not stupid, Clint."

So, Clint thought about it. And realised he was, in fact, an idiot. Looking back, it really must have looked to Phil that he was propositioning him to keep his position and to thank Phil for listening to him. He'd repeated the offer more than once, usually after a mission where Phil had saved his ass in one way or another. God. Phil must have thought Clint was a massive slut, prostituting himself like that.

"I'm an idiot." He drained his glass and put his head in his hands. Tony immediately refilled the glass.

"Yeah, but you're our idiot. I take it you like him back then?"

"Yeah, but I've really screwed this up."

"Maybe. But you should talk to him. Figure it out."

"Does that mean you're finally going to man up and talk to Steve about your feeeeeelings?" Clint teased back, already feeling more at ease with Tony, but maybe that was the alcohol.

"What?"

"You know. You and Steve. We've got a pool running on when you two are finally going to fuck. The UST is ridiculous, really." He gestured expansively and the scotch slopped over the edge of the glass. He downed the rest to stop it from escaping too.

"No. What? He hates me. You know he hates me. We argue, lots. And he's annoying and wishes I was my dad." Tony's turn to down his scotch. "I've tried to make him like me, but at this point, seriously, I've pretty much given up."

"You really are as bad at social skills as I am. I didn't think it was possible."

"Shut up." Tony refilled his glass and then poked Clint hard in the ribs.

"No, this is hilarious. You're lecturing me on my relationships when you're just as fucked up."

"Takes one to know one, Legolas." Tony toasted him, and Clint clinked their glasses together, both of them swallowing the contents in one.

"If I have to talk to Coulson, you have to talk to Steve."

"I can't talk to Steve. Bad things happen when I talk to Steve."

"Dude."

"No."

"Dude."

"Noooo."

"Man up."

"You first."

"Make me." Tony stared at him for a long, tense moment, and then Clint grinned. "Caw caw, motherfucker." They both burst out laughing, scotch going everywhere as Tony, still giggling, tried to top up their glasses.

"Seriously though, I'll talk to Steve. If you talk to Coulson. We can meet up in the kitchen for celebratory or comisss... comiserath..."Tony frowned, unable to get the word out. "Depressing pancakes. Which you will make because I can only make omelettes. Badly."

"It's a deal!" Clint said, and clinked their glasses together again.

* * *

They woke up, heads aching, stomachs rolling, half naked in Tony's bed. Their shirts were both adorning the top of a nearby lamp, and Dummy was sitting in the corner of the room wearing a traffic cone as a hat. Neither of them had shoes or socks on, nor was any footwear present in the room.

"What the hell did we do last night?" Tony asked, hand on his forehead.

"I have no idea. It's pretty fuzzy. Please tell me we didn't leave the Tower like this."

"We must have. Where the hell did the traffic cone come from?" Tony motioned to Dummy, who tilted his head/claw/thing from side to side, somehow without dislodging the cone.

"If I may, sir. You did not leave the Tower while intoxicated. You did go down to the workshop, but I denied you access to anything dangerous," JARVIS chimed in.

"JARVIS," Clint said seriously, "you are a true bro."

"JARVIS, where did we get the traffic cone from?"

"I am uncertain, sir."

"Did anyone else see us like this?" Clint asked.

"They did not. Although I believe you both made phone calls at some point."

"Crap," both men said as one.

"JARVIS," Tony continued alone, "why were my drunk dialling protocols not activated?"

"They were, sir. You overrode them."

"Wonderful. Who did we call?"

"You, sir, called Captain Rogers. I believe you left a message on his answering machine. And you, Agent Barton, called Agent Coulson. From what was said, I understand that you have made an appointment for him to come here and see you at some point today." JARVIS paused.

"Fuck," Clint said succinctly and let his head fall back onto the pillow. JARVIS began speaking again, as though he'd only paused to let Clint vent.

"Sir, you also called your lawyer. You insisted that he immediately begin the process of applying for a marriage license in the names of Captain Rogers and yourself."

"Fuck," Tony said. "Has Cap accessed his voicemail today?"

"Sir, that would be an invasion of his privacy."

"Come on, JARVIS! I just want to delete the message. You know drunk me is an idiot." JARVIS said nothing, and Tony sighed. Sometimes he wished his AI hadn't turned out quite such a stick in the mud. "This is not at all how I thought this morning would go."

"Me neither," Clint replied and pulled the covers up over his head with a groan.

* * *

Tony gave them both half an hour to wallow and then poked Clint in the ribs.

"Come on. I was promised pancakes."

"That was before you got me drunk and ruined my love life."

"Hey, your love life was bad enough before I got involved. Besides, drunk you did the dialling, and drunk me did a pretty good job of ruining my own love life and you don't see me hiding."

"Fine. You'll get your pancakes. But I need clothes first."

"Dummy!" Tony called, and the robot tossed his claw up and down. "Go get Clint some clothes. JARVIS will tell you which ones work. Then come back here." He watched Dummy trundle out the room then pressed his fingers into his temples. "What is he even doing out of the lab?" He stood up, somewhat shakily, and smiled at Clint. "I'm going to grab a shower, get rid of whatever died in my mouth and get dressed. See you in a few?"

"Sure. I'm not going anywhere." Clint stretched leisurely and then snuggled back down into the warmth of the bed. Tony smirked and moved off to the bathroom.

Clint thought about everything that had happened while he waited for Tony. He'd embarrassed himself. He'd tried to screw one of his best friends. Although, to be fair, he'd done pretty much the same thing with Natasha, and that had been the start of a beautiful friendship. Nat had taken him up on it though. They'd slept together constantly for about three years before they stopped. It had been their way of showing affection, of reassuring each other they were alive and well. Neither of them were great with emotions. They'd stopped when they realised they really were friends.

At least Tony didn't seem to want to make it awkward. It was probably a good thing that they were so similar.

The door to the room opened and Dummy entered, with a claw full of Clint's clothes.

"Thanks, Dummy," Clint said, petting his claw. He dragged on his clothes and then flopped back down onto the bed. He was screwed. Phil probably thought he was a drunken idiot at best. At worst... Phil was disgusted. He hated the idea that Clint wanted him.

"This sucks."

* * *

Tony leaned his head forward against the wet tile wall. He was screwed. Steve was probably listening to whatever idiotic message he'd left him right now and now Steve probably hated him. He probably thought Tony was a drunken idiot at best. But Steve came from an era where things were...different. He was probably disgusted at the idea that Tony had feelings for him.

"This sucks."

* * *

They eventually finished feeling sorry for themselves and got in the elevator to head to the communal kitchen. Neither of them had wanted to leave Tony's floor, but since he had none of the ingredients necessary for pancakes, they kind of had to.

"Okay, so we're going to go in, grab whatever the hell you need to make pancakes and get out."

"Agreed."

There was too much risk of the men they were avoiding finding them if they stayed on the communal floor. The doors opened and they stepped out, walking quickly towards the kitchen. Clint was just in front of Tony and when he froze Tony crashed into his back.

"Hey, Hawkbrain, what gives?" He pushed past Clint and then froze himself. Phil and Steve were both sitting at the table, drinking tea. "Urk!"

"Clint. Have a seat." Phil sipped his tea and raised an eyebrow. Steve, however, put his tea down with a click and stood up. He started walking slowly towards Tony and Tony grabbed Clint and used him as a human shield.

"Tony," Steve said, frowning. "Stop that. Come here."

"No, I think I'd rather stay right here."

"Agent Barton, I believe I asked you to take a seat," Phil said. Clint glanced back at Tony, then shrugged apologetically and headed over to the table. He knew that tone of voice. "Now, we are going to have a conversation. Steve, Tony, you are welcome to stay, but I believe you have a conversation of your own to have."

"We do," Steve took two more steps and then he was right in front of Tony and he grabbed his arm. "We'll see you later." He pulled a spluttering Tony out of the room.

Clint hunched his shoulders and looked at the table. Phil drank his tea.

"Are you mad at me?" Clint asked when Phil didn't say anything. He winced at how small his voice was.

"Mad? No. Confused. Upset."

"Upset?" Clint fiddled his hands together in his lap, and Phil looked at him then rolled his eyes.

"You don't remember, do you?"

"Sorry?"

"You called me up and said you'd tried to sleep with Tony. That he'd said no and you'd both gotten drunk."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Then you said that you'd only tried to sleep with Tony because you didn't know what I wanted from you because I kept turning you down."

"Oh."

"Before I say anything else I want to make something clear. I would never take advantage of you. For as long as I have been your handler, it would be irresponsible and just plain wrong for me to make any sort of sexual advances towards you." He paused then, waiting. It was an old trick, one he'd used on Clint more than once. Forcing eye contact. It still worked. Clint looked up and met Phil's eyes.

"Sorry," he said.

"No. I don't want an apology. I want a conversation. I... You use sex as a weapon, almost as much as Natasha does. But while she uses sex to get marks, you use it for attention. As a substitute for love. I noticed it a long time ago, the way you sleep with people just to get a kind touch." Clint flinched and he couldn't keep the eye contact going any more. "I'm not going to be part of that. I care too much about you to be part of that self destructive nonsense."

"Oh. Okay. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I won't bother you about it again." He put his hands flat on the table and made to get up.

"Do not move Agent Barton." There was that tone again. "Having said that, I would be interested in pursuing a relationship with you. As long as we're going into this with our eyes wide open."

"But you said... I thought... handler?"

"I knew you didn't pay attention at the weekly meetings." Phil smiled wryly and shook his head. "It was decided weeks ago that The Avengers would become an independent unit. Technically, you don't have a handler anymore. My official title as far as the team goes is 'Head Liaison Officer'. Although, Hill has taken to calling me 'Hero Wrangler'."

"So, really? No conflict of interest?"

"That's right." Phil hesitated briefly. "I need to explain something before you say anything else. I have been labouring under a misapprehension." Uh oh. Phil had got out the big words. That usually meant that he was uncomfortable or that Clint was in trouble. "On the phone last night... you confided that you had an emotional connection to me. A connection beyond friendship. Honestly, I had never considered that a possibility. I thought... whenever you asked me to bed with you, it was right after I'd done something nice for you. Sat with you in medical, helped you with your paperwork, got rid of a disciplinary charge. I thought that you liked me well enough as a friend, at least I hoped you did, but I never thought you actually found me attractive."

"I always found you attractive. That you were nice and kind of a badass was a bonus."

"Okay. For the record, the feeling is mutual. I just didn't want to be the latest in a string of men who had taken advantage of you."

"That's what Tony said."

"Really? What exactly happened last night? I mean, how did you end up trying to sleep with Tony?"

"I... I'm messed up. I know that. But... he was being nice to me, building me stuff, giving me a roof and a really nice kitchen, sticking up for me with Cap. I thought..."

"You thought that's what he wanted," Phil finished when Clint trailed off and hung his head.

"Yeah. But he didn't. He...I don't get it, but he just wants to be my friend."

"Is that so unbelievable?"

"Yeah, actually. You and Tasha," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You two are the only people who like me. Who want to spend time with me. And he's clever and rich and loads of people want to be friends with him. I don't really get why he wants to hang out with me."

"Because you're smart. You're funny. You're sarcastic and snarky just like him, and you both have the same juvenile sense of humour." Phil reached across the table and gripped Clint's hand tightly. "You're a great person, Clint."

"Well, you have to say that. We've just arranged to have sex."

"To date," Phil corrected.

"Fine. But it still doesn't explain why Tony wants to hang out."

"Because he's even more messed up than you. You... I've been around since the first Iron Man suit. Tony doesn't have friends, he has Pepper, and Rhodey. And he barely trusts them. And since Rhodes took his suit, that trust has gone down even more." Phil frowned. "Plus he uses sex the same way you do, for human contact when people are too stupid to see how amazing he is."

Clint flushed, pretty sure Phil was talking about him as much as he was talking about Tony.

"I like him. He's fun."

"But do you want to sleep with him?"

"No. Not really."

"Then don't."

"He doesn't want to anyway." Clint looked away. "I know I'm screwed up. I mean, you know too. You just dragged my whole twisted psyche out onto the table. But I want to do better. And I really... I love you, I think. I'm not sure. It's not an emotion I'm used to."

"We're going to take it slow. Glacier slow. And you are going to tell me if you're ever uncomfortable with anything we're doing. And I love you too, by the way."

"Oh. Okay. That's... nice?" Phil laughed, quietly but warmly, and Clint found himself smiling in response. Something cold and twisted in his gut settled for the first time in what seemed like forever. He was still screwed up, and he was pretty sure that the relationship would be pretty dysfunctional, at least to begin with. Because Clint was really bad at accepting that nice things did sometimes happen to him. And Phil was way too nice and Clint just knew he'd spend the first part of their relationship being way too careful of Clint's feelings. But maybe he needed that.

* * *

Tony let Steve pull him along, and was surprised when they ended up in his lab.

"Seriously, Steve, I bruise very easily. Besides you can't seriously hold anything I said when I was drunk against me. I say all sorts of stupid shit when I'm drunk, seriously." He was overusing the word seriously and he surreptitiously tried to free his arm from Steve's grip. Unlike Clint, who went quiet and still, Tony got loud and fidgeted when things went wrong. Steve sighed and pushed Tony down onto the sofa he kept in there for naps.

"We need to talk."

"I hate that phrase. I think that phrase should be taken out of the language. Nothing ever good has ever followed that phrase in the history of mankind."

"Then we'll be setting a precedent," Steve replied. Tony frowned at that and opened his mouth. "No," Steve cut in. "My turn to talk. You left me a very interesting message last night. And I want the chance to respond."

"Steve, come on. I was drunk, you can't take anything I said when I was that drunk seriously."

"You aren't listening to me. I'm not offended or disgusted or whatever else you're thinking."

"What are you then?"

"Flattered. Interested. Confused."

"Really?" Tony perked up, turning to face Steve, his head tilted slightly to one side. "I thought for sure you'd want to punch me in the face. I mean, the times you grew up in weren't known for being friendly to a little guy on guy action."

"Not everyone agreed with that. And I... when I woke up, they told me about how things had changed. About how the negroes had rights and men could marry men. It was kind of a shock."

"I'll bet."

"But in a good way. I've never held with that nonsense that the way you are, the way you're made, makes you more or less of a person. You must have seen the photos of the Howling Commandos. We weren't all white middle class Americans."

"That's different. I never thought you'd be racist, I knew that you even worked with a Japanese American at a time when the government was rounding up anyone who even looked Japanese and herding them into internment camps." Tony smiled a little, bittersweet. "But this is..." he ran a hand through his hair. "Even now it's not something that a lot of people feel comfortable with. Until recently most people thought that it was a choice. Not long before that, they said it was a mental illness."

"I slept through all that. When I went into the ice, it was a crime. You could get arrested for it. A skinny kid from Brooklyn could get beaten up just for looking like he might be queer." Steve sighed. "I'm not saying I'm not scared. I mean, I've never... the closest I've got to having sex with anyone was pretending not to hear my teammates...taking care of business in the dark."

"Wait. You're a virgin?" Tony had to take a deep breath at that.

"Yeah." Steve looked down at his hands and carefully didn't twist them together in his lap. "First I was too small and too sickly, no one would have looked at me twice. Then there was a war on and there was Peggy, but..." he shook his head. "We'd stop off at cathouses sometimes. The others would... but I couldn't. It just didn't feel right. I couldn't..." He sighed.

"I...we'd take it slow, if you needed to. I mean, I've done everything under the sun. A lot of it more than once. I've slept with men, women, everything in between. You think of it, I've probably done it." Tony knew that Steve wouldn't want just a fling, and he deserved the full disclosure of how screwed up he was before committing to anything. "Sex is... it's fun and it's..." he trailed off. He really didn't want to get into this. "You should know I'm pretty screwed up. I'm not good at relationships. Sex, yeah. I'm good at that. Plenty of practice. But I've only been in about three relationships that lasted more than a week in my life. Even Pepper couldn't put up with me long term, and she knows me better than anyone. Fair warning."

"I'm good at relationships," Steve smiled. "At least, I think I am. Me and Peggy. Me and Bucky. Me and my team." He shrugged. "I can teach you about being in a relationship and you can teach me about sex."

And that, Tony thought, that was just perfect. They're relationship was going to be as dysfunctional and co-dependent as hell, but they could learn. Together.

* * *

Later, after the conversations were said and done, and some other stuff too, Tony wandered back through to the kitchen. He found Clint sitting at the table.

"You," he said, pointing theatrically, "owe me pancakes. So very many pancakes."

"Blueberries in yours?" Clint got up and moved over to the counter, pulling the necessary stuff out and refusing to meet Tony's eyes.

"Sure." He sat down at the table and studied the tense line of Clint's back. "We're okay, right? I mean, you'd tell me if we weren't. Although I don't know why we wouldn't be okay. You hooked up with Agent and I got Steve and we're all going to live happily ever after. Well, until one of us screws it up."

"We're okay. Yeah. I just... I still don't get it." Clint stirred the batter perhaps more vigorously than necessary and then poured it into the skillet. "What you see in me."

"That's because you're broken. But it's okay. I'm great at fixing things. I've had a lot of practice."

They ate pancakes and talked and slowly adjusted back into familiar roles. They snarked and teased and got into each other's space without flinching. And neither of them really minded when Steve and Phil showed up to drag their respective partners away.


End file.
